


The Mathematical Formula Used to Express Faith

by anonymous_sibyl



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Kyle XY
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-26
Updated: 2008-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-03 15:30:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymous_sibyl/pseuds/anonymous_sibyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps he was to learn by experiencing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Mathematical Formula Used to Express Faith

**Author's Note:**

> This work is licensed under a [Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License](http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/us/). None of the media or characters written about in my fanfiction belong to me and I make no profit from these works. 

I didn't know who this girl was. I had never seen her before, not at my school, and not at any of the places I had gone. I think that I would have remembered her, she was loud, and very lovely, not shiny and false like the girls in the magazines Josh had given me to take care of the pressure, but I did find myself thinking of her as pretty.

That word was wrong, though I did not know of one better to use. It was somewhere in my mind that Josh would have a different word for her, with her shirt that exposed more of her than I was used to seeing, and the strange markings that encircled her upper arm. Also, the way that she had fought with that strange-faced man was, in itself, memorable. I would certainly recognize her were I to encounter her again. I wondered if I would.

"MOVE!"

I moved when she yelled, stepping to the side and allowing the other men with strange faces to move past me. She had a commanding voice, and appeared to know more about this situation than I. I felt it best to listen to her as I would to the Tragers or one of my teachers.

It was interesting to watch her, moving as rapidly as she did, circling the strange men, striking them with her fists and feet. I felt if I were given enough time, I could write mathematical formulae that would explain her to others. She is beautiful and such beauty should be shared, or so I have learned.

"Are you crazy?! RUN!"

Was I crazy? I did not know. "Run where?"

She turned and scowled at me, and at the same time, raised her right hand over her head and hit the man who had been coming up behind her. I revised my opinion of mathematical formulae as a means to express her, and considered including genetics, for surely something as amazing as she could not be normal.

I was much consumed with normalcy at one time, as were the Tragers and all else who I encountered. My experiences had led me to believe that normal did not deserve the connotation it had among my peers, and that abnormal was not completely undesirable.

"Are you normal?" I asked her, seeking to discover if she was, perhaps, like me. "Do you know who I am?"

"You're a very stupid guy who is about to be vamp food if you don't move!"

She plunged a sharpened piece of wood into the chest of one of the men she had been fighting and, as I watched, he dissolved into dust. "Is that what happens when you die?"

"Not when I die, sport, and not when you die. And them," she paused to repeat her action with another man and he, too, turned to ash. "Well, they're already dead."

This was information I had never before learned and I needed time to consider it. When she and I died, there would be no dust, but I felt sure I could be harmed by a sharpened piece of wood being plunged into my body. But these men, men who were walking and talking, were, according to this girl, already dead?

"Are they different, or am I?" She did not answer. I was unsure if it was possible to kill the undead, but these bodies were not returning from dust. "Are they dead?"

"Dead and gone."

"Were they harming you?"

"That's funny." She looked at me in a way that felt like assessment. "I like you. What's your name?"

"Kyle."

"Faith."

Faith. It was her name, and it bespoke a certain belief I felt certain she had in herself. Unfortunately I could not express that sort of belief mathematically. Perhaps she could teach it to me. Or perhaps I was to learn simply by experiencing her. "Why do you turn them to dust?"

"It's my job. I guess it's my purpose."

I understood that. Everyone needed a purpose. I was glad she had found hers. She seemed well-suited to it. I hoped to find my purpose someday.

"You better get home," she said. "There must be someone missing you."

"Yes." I walked forward several steps, then turned back to look at this girl. "Is there someone who misses you?"

"Hell if I know, kid. Hell if I know."

That seemed sad. I would consider it while walking home, and I would also consider that I was fortunate that there were people who would miss me. Perhaps that, too, was a kind of faith.


	2. Four Hours Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [](http://sweptawaybayou.livejournal.com/profile)[**sweptawaybayou**](http://sweptawaybayou.livejournal.com/) who wanted  four hours after the events of [The Mathematical Formula Used to Express Faith](http://anonymous-sibyl.livejournal.com/571876.html).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is licensed under a [Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License](http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/us/). None of the media or characters written about in my fanfiction belong to me and I make no profit from these works. 

The day had been long and I was tired, but I found I could not sleep. This was not unusual for me, but it was a problem I had thought gone from my life. Instead of relaxing I found my mind full of that girl and her faith, and of those strange-faced men she fought. She had talked of purpose and that was obviously hers; she certainly seemed designed for it.

What was I designed for? Would I ever be as content in purpose as that girl? It was something to strive for, of that I was sure, but was it attainable?

Seeing her had changed something in me. I found myself climbing out of my tub and dressing, seeking out the night, perhaps hoping to see her or, possibly, to see one of those creatures she hunted. I left the house silently, not wanting to disturb the Tragers. This was not something they should know; the darkness fought by this girl should be kept from them, I was certain.

Ultimately my search was fruitless. I found neither the girl or her adversaries, nor did I find my purpose. That, apparently, would wait for another day.

The last thought in my mind before sleeping was her: I wondered if she thought of me, too.


End file.
